


Burning

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: On a hot summer day, Belle stumbles upon a very naked Mr. Gold.





	Burning

Sweat streaming down her body, Belle sighs with exhaustion as she lowers herself on the other side of the fence. Consulting her map once more, she reminds herself that the earlier adventure of her hike is very much worth her current physical discomfort.

Wiping her face with a damp forearm, she looks around, satisfied when she hears the distant sound of traffic. Her shortcuts get her lost more often than not, if only because she keeps getting distracted by new views and discoveries, but this time it looks like she's truly found a quicker way back home.

She can already all but taste the iced tea in the fridge of her apartment and she picks up her pace, becoming yet more optimistic. The unfamiliar patch of forest around her leads to a meadow which is doubtlessly situated right next to the road heading back into town.

The librarian only becomes aware that perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to get off the trail after all when the grass she's walking on turns out to be part of a lawn rather than a meadow. A house is looming up at the edge of said lawn… a rather pink and somewhat familiar one.

Belle tenses as she belatedly realizes that rather than a shorter way home, she has found Mr. Gold's backyard. It turns out that she has accidentally trespassed on the private property of the most feared man in town.

She might find him more intriguing than intimidating and, indeed, handsome rather than repulsive, but that doesn't mean she doesn't know that she very much shouldn't be here. Best get back where she came from before he finds out that she has been on his premises without permission and…

Her eyes darting around to find the closest place where she'll be able to disappear back into the forest, she freezes when she spots something yet more alarming than the infamous landlord's house.

There's a lounge bed on the front of the lawn, right before the porch, with a lone figure spread out on it, seemingly asleep in the bright sunlight. Her heart beating rapidly in her throat, she instinctively backs away, hoping with all her might that the person currently sunbathing won't spot her on Mr. Gold's property.

Beginning to wonder what said individual might be doing on the landlord's premises, Belle takes a closer look at the distant figure on the lounge bed… only to realize that she's staring at none other than the man himself.

She may not have expected to ever see him like this, she may not be able to distinguish his face or any of his custom-made clothing, but the lithe frame and the graying, shoulder-length hair can only belong to one person in town.

As if that weren't bad enough yet, she belatedly notices that the utterly untouchable man she has been secretly admiring is wearing no clothes whatsoever.

This is worse than getting lost out of town in the dark—far, far worse. And yet…

Now that she has spotted him, she can't take her eyes off him, not even to find a way out of the garden which turns out to be a lot more seclusive than she initially thought. She idly supposes that it has to be that way, for the landlord to bare himself in the open like this.

The very position of his body implies how utterly private he considers the garden behind his large home. He's lazily spread out on his stomach on the lounge bed—if 'lazily' could be a word to describe the usually so very impeccable and industrious landlord—unknowingly providing her with an unequaled view of the entire back of his body.

Here he is, looking completely relaxed and unguarded, almost like a reptile sunbathing on a hot rock. It only reminds Belle more strongly that she should leave, and do anything in her power to make certain he never knows that she has seen him in such a state.

But she has been wondering about him longer than she cares to admit, longing for him with increasing frequency and intensity. She can't look away from him, even as she tells herself how wrong all of this is, and that she shouldn't be marveling at having found out at last how the man who doesn't ever go out dressed in anything less than a three-piece custom-made suit gets such a lovely tan.

Her attempt to disappear unheard and unseen long forgotten, she can only stare at the expanses of bare skin, the unexpected wiriness of the body she never expected to see… the mangled skin on his ankle, that she can vaguely make out.

He's gorgeous and, although she loathes herself for it, she can't help but wish she could see his front as well.

Her breathing is shallow as her eyes continue to roam over him, memorizing as much of him as she can despite herself. She doesn't know whether she spends seconds or whole minutes frozen there, only that time seems to stand still… at least until the landlord raises his head.

His face was previously resting on the towel that covers the lounge bed, further obscured by his arm. But now he's looking up, right in her direction, almost as if he could feel her heavy gaze on him.

Belle remains petrified when he looks straight at her, his eyes widening in unmistakable shock. Her face flushes yet redder than it probably already was, mortified to be found staring at the naked man.

His deep surprise is quickly replaced by something else entirely. Rather than angry or upset, he looks utterly terrified and humiliated. There's nowhere for him to hide: there isn't a towel or a piece of clothing in sight but the fabric he's lying on. They both know that just about any potential movement would result in him exposing yet more of himself to her.

Still staring at him, although it is now in shock and confusion, she finds that he appears to be scared of her and her treacherous eyes for some reason. He looks at her not quite unlike the proverbial deer in the headlights.

Belle wants to tell him he's got nothing to be afraid of. She won't take advantage of this situation in any way, not any more than she already has at least, just like she won't ever tell anyone that the feared and very private landlord likes to sunbathe naked in his backyard… but she can't bring herself to glance away from him.

She instinctively steps towards him, wanting to reassure him somehow as sweat that has nothing to do with the summer heat breaks out over her entire body. Countless thoughts are racing through her head, just like rather unfamiliar feelings are rushing all through her, but she can't think of anything helpful to say or do.

As she moves closer, it doesn't escape her that she can see yet more of him now that the distance between them is reduced. She can only barely hold back a whimper when she spots drops of perspiration sliding down his tanned and perfectly-shaped back and buttocks.

No matter how tempting that sight is, it doesn't make her forget that Mr. Gold is clearly very uncomfortable with her nearness. She may have approached him out of some instinctive determination to make him feel more at ease, but she's doing a very poor job of that so far.

Belle belatedly averts her gaze after all, raising her palms in what she hopes to be a calming gesture. She turns away for good measure, completely unsure of what to say or do.

"Miss French, what… why…"

"I'm so terribly sorry, Mr. Gold," she says, still pointedly looking away from him. "I… I know excuses won't make this any better, but I'd like you to know that I did not mean for this to happen. I was just trying to find a shorter way home, and obviously I had no idea that… I would never have come here if I had known that…"

She swallows heavily, finding her throat dry and belatedly realizing that she is rambling.

"I… I'm so sorry. So very sorry. That's all. I should… do you want me to go? Or is there something I can get for you, Mr. Gold? A towel, or a robe or something like that?"

"I'm afraid there is nothing in the vicinity to make this any less awkward. But I appreciate and accept your apology, Miss French. This must be even more unpleasant for you than it is for me. I only request that you don't share this… occurrence with anyone else. I would very much prefer it if nobody came to know about this."

"I promise I won't tell anyone," she says quickly, before processing his earlier words. "But please, don't say that this is unpleasant for me—it isn't."

"But how…"

"I don't want to cause you any discomfort, and I fear that I am, so in that sense, it is an unpleasant moment. But other than that…"

She falters, knowing she can't tell him how much she enjoys the sight of him, how much she would love to be eagerly staring at him even now. Indeed, how much she'd like to openly admire his well-proportioned body, and appreciate it as part of the man she'd fallen for long before finding out just how gorgeous his whole being is.

But he will clearly not like to hear anything along those lines from her, so she refrains from going there.

"Miss French, I know it's hardly a consolation for you, but… I'd rather have you see me like this than anyone else."

Mr. Gold can't possibly mean that he likes her seeing him this way, she knows that only too well. Still, she can't help but wonder what he might do if he regarded her as someone who enjoys the sight of him in such a state, rather than being disgusted by it. Then again, she'll probably never find out.

But at least he seems to be relaxing as they talk like this, apparently even forgetting how very uncomfortable his nudity was making him only a few moments ago. She slightly turns back towards him, watching him from the corner of her eye.

"So you enjoy sunbathing, Mr. Gold?" she asks, purposefully going for an easy question.

"I do," he says, slightly pushing himself up on his arms in order to face her better, almost as if they were having a regular conversation… for as far as she could ever have a normal talk with the very distant pawnbroker under usual circumstances. "It feels… warm."

There's something in the way he speaks the last word that makes her think this is the most substantial type of warmth he ever experiences—as if there were no people in his life whatsoever who may provide him with such a feeling, either in an emotional or a physical sense.

She briefly thinks of her own fondness for hot showers and warm blankets and, indeed, the brightest sunlight. She never considered it as a substitute for touch until now, as it dawns on her that she doesn't really have anyone in her life who can bring her that either... and that she would very much like him to be such a person.

"It must be lovely out here," she remarks, gesturing at the quiet and very sunny space around them.

"That it is," he agrees. "If you want… you're welcome to sunbathe here as well. You can borrow this lounge bed, and I'll get you a clean towel if you like. I'll stay away from you; I'll go back into the house, or in town if you prefer, so you…"

"I'd love to sunbathe here," she eagerly replies, her temperature rising further at the idea. "But I'd much rather do so with you right here."

She drops her backpack as Mr. Gold looks at her in confusion, taking it as a good sign that he doesn't seem upset or shocked or, yet worse, uncomfortable with her suggestion.

"What do you…"

"Let's sunbathe together?" she asks, beginning to unbutton her blouse.

He nods breathlessly, his widening eyes following her hands when they expose her bra and pale belly. Despite the warmth of the sun and her own excitement, Belle shivers pleasantly from the way he is looking at her, having seemingly forgotten—or no longer caring—that he's still naked right in front of her hungry eyes as she purposefully bends to remove her shoes and socks.

"Would you like me to join you?" she asks in addition, wanting to be absolutely certain as her fingers linger on the zipper of her skirt next.

"Yes," he rasps, his tone alone creating a throbbing feeling between her legs.

She ought to keep in mind that he doesn't intend for her to react that way; he may have miraculously invited her to lie down next to him, but that is the full extent of his offer. It's not as if he wanted to see her naked as well. Still, she can barely hold back a moan as he pushes himself up on his arms, as if to take a better look at her, and she catches her first glance of his smooth, lean chest.

She hastily pushes her skirt down her legs, stepping out of it, and shrugs her blouse off her shoulders, also casually dropping it on the grass. Any doubts she may have had about her admittedly impulsive plan vanish at the eager look in his dark eyes as she reaches for the clasp of her bra.

"Oh, Belle…" he breathes, visibly unaware that he isn't addressing her in such a ridiculously formal way any longer.

Despite her conviction that her feelings for him are wholly unrequited, there's something about his voice that gives her a sense that he wants this as much as she does… and that she wasn't the only one who wished for something like this to happen between the two of them.

She's becoming increasingly aware that she is, for all intents and purposes, currently stripping right in front of Mr. Gold—but she's only further emboldened by his quickened breathing and rapt attention, to the point that she feels rather disappointed when he abruptly looks away as she begins to remove her bra as well.

Then again, as this leads her focus back to his beautiful body, she notices that he's lightly rubbing his lower half against the towel he's lying on, in what seems like a wholly unconscious manner. The notion that this could possibly arouse him as much as her leaves her equally distracted as she almost absent-mindedly moves to take off her underwear.

He is still looking away when she pushes her panties down her legs. Too overcome to find the words to tell him she'd like him to look at her, to watch her as she undresses completely, she hastily steps out of her last piece of clothing.

Rather than to tell him, she fully intends to show him how very much she wants him—all of him.

Wondering if he could see the wetness gathering between her legs if he were to look up right now, Belle crosses the small remaining distance to the lounge bed and carefully sits down on its edge. Despite the hot sunlight caressing more of her bare skin than it ever has before, she quivers only harder.

"I'm lying down as well now," she tells him, as he still isn't looking at her.

Her breathing quick and shallow, she makes certain not to brush her body against his as she spreads out right next to him on the lounge bed—for now. Not wanting to go too quickly, if only because she very much wishes to avoid spooking him after all, Belle rests on her stomach as well, copying his relatively modest pose.

"You shouldn't stay like this for too long," he says, sounding rather pained. "You'll get sunburn."

"Then it's a good thing I have this," she replies, reaching into her bag to retrieve a small bottle of sunscreen. "If only there were someone right here to get it onto my back…"

He groans at the implicit request, making her yet more eager for him to get his hands on her—all over her.

"Are you asking me to…"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to…"

"Yes."

"You want me to put that on your back, to… touch you?"

"Yes."

"All right."

Belle doesn't know what she was expecting, but perhaps it wasn't for him to actually accept her admittedly impulsive proposal. That might explain why she's suddenly almost breathless at the no longer merely theoretical prospect, the throbbing between her legs almost maddening.

She hands the bottle to him and he manages to take it without either of them getting up from their current position, side by side on their belly, which offers as much cover as is at all possible now that neither of them is wearing any clothes.

For a few long moments nothing happens, but then he pours some sunscreen directly from the bottle onto her skin, the chilliness of it leaving her shivering. He doesn't move again for another while, until finally, he tentatively places his palm on the small of her back.

Belle folds her arms and rests her head on them, her face at just enough of an angle to watch him from the corner of her eye. The landlord is staring at her in unmistakable wonder and appreciation, oblivious that her gaze is also on him.

He's propped up on his arms now, his lower half still restricted from her view. It's already the most tempting thing she has ever laid eyes on by far, and she can't wait to find out what it might be like to see more of him, all of him—and what it will be like to have his hands on her bare skin.

Mr. Gold, however, seems struck by wonder to the extent that he doesn't go beyond looking at her as if he were dreaming, his hand resting motionlessly on her lower back. Intending to remedy that, she wiggles her hips a little, hoping for an encouraging reaction.

The way he brushes his fingers along her bare skin in response, more lightly than a feather, is not quite the demonstration of enthusiasm she was hoping for, but at least it's a step in the right direction. Besides, the way he looks at her tells her that this is going better than anything she could have dreamed of.

"You can apply the sunscreen, or just touch me if you like," she says, drinking in the sight of him as he leans over her like this. "Whatever you prefer."

He opts for spreading the cool liquid over her skin, possibly in an attempt to find a starting point on what he might actually do. She closes her eyes and sighs in complete happiness as he rubs the sunscreen into her skin, his hands gradually becoming a little more firm and confident.

Belle doesn't bother holding back her sighs and moans of delight as he touches her like this, beyond thrilled to hear similar groans escaping him. She can only hope he will be willing to continue until all of her has received the same treatment, for now that she's personally experiencing how he can make her feel, she just can't go on pretending not to need him so desperately.

Once he is done with her back, he doesn't extend his efforts to the parts of her body which most long for his attentions. Still, she takes it as a good sign that he continues to lightly caress the skin where he just applied the sunscreen, rather than withdrawing his hand altogether.

"If you like, you could also do this to other parts of me," she hints none too subtly, exhilarated by his sharp intake of breath as he grasps her meaning.

"What other parts would you like me to do?" he asks, sounding yet hoarser than before.

"Whichever ones you like," she says, although she can tell that this is too vague for him, that he will need additional prompting to touch more of her. "I would hate for my thighs to get sunburn, wouldn't you?"

"Indeed. That would… I don't want you to feel any discomfort."

"They wouldn't look nice, either," she adds, in a rather graceless attempt to coax a compliment out of him.

"I… I beg to differ, Miss French. I dare say your thighs will always look nice. Just like the rest of you."

"How so?" she asks breathlessly, not quite seeing where he's going with this now that he missed his cue for a compliment… a straightforward one, at least.

"Because they're you," he simply answers, actually sounding shy.

"I…" She finds herself tingling inside at his words, at the affection for her he expresses, both with and beyond actual speech. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. That's very lovely of you to say."

"It's the truth," he states matter-of-factly, as if there could be no discussion about that.

"I'm thrilled you see it that way," she replies—her spirits falling a little, however, when she notices that he isn't actually touching the thighs he just said such nice things about. "Does that mean you would like to put sunscreen on the entire back of my body?"

"If that's what you wish, Miss French."

Taking that as a confirmation, albeit one that is not nearly as enthusiastic as she would like given the circumstances, she shifts upwards so as to bring her thighs—and the parts of her body adjacent to them—closer to his hands.

"It is, yes."

It's initially a bit of a disappointment that he chooses to begin with her ankles, about as far away from the places of herself she most wants him to touch as he can get. But as he takes his time, his hands so beautifully tender and reverent, she marvels at the effort he's putting into this… at the discovery that he is so willing to take care of her.

She also becomes only more eager when he finds spots that have her gasping and trembling long before he even reaches the most intimate parts of her. She had no idea that the inside of her knees were so sensitive, and she can only hope they'll be making many more discoveries of the kind.

Indeed, strictly speaking, the landlord is only applying sunscreen, his hands never straying even now. And yet, although he is merely treating the inside of her knees like this, his touches are considerably more arousing than anything her former fiancé has ever done for her.

"Please don't stop," she whispers when he falters, withdrawing his hands before he actually reaches her thighs. "Unless you want to, of course."

"I don't," he breathes, looking at her like he still can't believe that all of this is truly happening—and yet like he's very, very glad that it is.

"Well then. What are you waiting for?"

To her relief, his hands begin to move again, venturing higher and higher along her legs… until he stops again, only a hairbreadth away from where she wants him the most—wants him so badly that she can't even appreciate the way he is very, very lightly touching her rear.

"All done," he murmurs, looking at his hands on her thigh as if he were seeing water burning.

Belle doesn't know whether to be bemused or desperate that throughout all this, he stayed as formal as he could possibly be. At least his hands are lingering this time.

"You haven't done my front yet."

Shyness arrives along with those words, more due to the chance of his being disgusted by that suggestion than the actual prospect of quite literally baring all of herself to him.

"I… if you want me to…"

"I do," she breathes.

Her heart beating rapidly and her breath quickening in anticipation, she maintains eye contact with him as she slowly but surely turns over on the lounge bed. As she lies on her back right in front of him, wearing no clothes whatsoever, she finds embarrassment for her nudity welling up within her after all.

She has never done anything quite like this, and starting right when it matters most suddenly seems like a bad idea. But there is such admiration in his eyes, such sheer awe written all over his face when he drinks in the sight of her with increasing eagerness, slowly overcoming his own hesitation.

"Sweetheart…" he whispers, his tone and choice of words alone turning her awkwardness into rather wanton forwardness once more.

"Touch me?"

He nods breathlessly and blindly reaches for the bottle of sunscreen, never taking his eyes off her. He's staring at her chest, which is by now about as flushed with heat and desire as her face. Then again, she isn't the only one to be bright red, for despite his tan, he has turned the exact same shade as her.

Given what they've shared so far, Belle isn't surprised when he doesn't make the choice most men would in such a situation. Reminding herself that his gradual approach will only wind her up more and, in all likelihood, lead to a yet more satisfying ending, she watches in anticipation as he squirts sunscreen onto his hand and slowly brings it to her stomach.

He never looks away from her face as he begins to rub the cool semi-liquid onto her belly. The heat in his eyes, so gentle and loving even now, makes it very difficult to be patient, however.

Unable to wait any longer, needing more, she covers Mr. Gold's hands with her own and guides them upwards questioningly. When he moves willingly with her, his eyes darkening further, she unceremoniously covers one of her breasts with his palm.

He groans at the contact, that sound alone arousing her almost as much as the actual friction. Biting her lip, she watches him hungrily, her eyes flying from his hand to his burning gaze and back again.

"So beautiful," he whispers, picking up on the way she encourages him to squeeze her yielding flesh and rub his thumb repeatedly over its hardening peak.

"You feel very good," she smiles, wanting him to have no doubt whatsoever about what this is doing to her.

"Yes," he all but whimpers, as if he were the one being pleasured like this. "Would you like to… can I use both hands?"

"Of course," she breathes, almost giddy at the prospect.

His left hand ventures towards her belly button, and although that wasn't necessarily the destination she would have chosen in advance, Belle finds that a lot can be said for being caressed there after all when he ever so tentatively does so.

Still, she's soon focused on something else entirely. He shifts in order to be able to reach for her with both hands, having seemingly forgotten that lying on his stomach was his last protection from her eager eyes… or no longer caring.

Belle's breath all but stops when she belatedly notices that he's moved into a sitting position, his belly and thighs—and the flesh between them—now entirely exposed. She can't help but gasp out loud as she beholds him like this, fully erect—practically drooling at the previously utterly forbidden sight.

Mr. Gold pauses in his movements—but, thankfully, doesn't remove his hands from her—as the sound alerts him to her focus. He tenses visibly, as if he expected the world to end, at the very least, now that she's seen him like this. When no such thing happens, when, in fact, she continues to admire him, he looks at her apprehensively.

"Please?" she asks softly, missing his ministrations so much it almost hurts.

"Please what?"

He withdraws his hands once more, as if he thought she was begging him to stop and cover himself up rather than to take this a whole lot further.

"Please make me feel yet better?"

She takes his right hand in hers again. But rather than bringing it back to her breasts, she guides it downwards, until his fingers are brushing the damp heat between her thighs. If she had thought to bring condoms on her hike, she would have asked the landlord to take her right here and now—but as it is, there's something else she'd very much like to experience with him.

"What would you like me to do?" he asks, clearly whole-heartedly agreeing with her suggestion, although he doesn't seem to wholly understand her meaning.

"Just rub right there?" she requests, finally guiding his fingers to where she has most longed for them since the moment she found him sunbathing without any clothes on.

The first brush of the tip of his forefinger has her shaking, but that's nothing compared to the pleasure that immediately spreads through her when he rubs her most sensitive part of his own accord.

Just before she closes her eyes, moaning loudly, she sees his expression turn from skepticism and uncertainty to pure if disbelieving delight. She beams at him even as she gasps for air, the sweetest of aches building right where he is stimulating her. He touches her more firmly and rapidly in response.

He may barely be able to comprehend that he's making her feel this good, let alone so easily—but then again, Belle herself is pleasantly surprised by just how quickly pleasure is building up within her, the combination of the heated situation and, of course, Mr. Gold himself considerably more arousing than anything she has ever experienced until now.

Her thighs quivering around his fingers, she instinctively places her hand on his own leg, holding on for dear life as he takes her to heights she didn't know existed. She ignores the urge to close her eyes so she may fully focus her senses on the pleasure he's giving her, wanting to watch every moment of this.

Belle was convinced this couldn't possibly get any better, but the impossible pawnbroker proves her wrong when he leans over her, kissing the top of one of her breasts. Now that his mouth there is evoking yet more bliss than his hands just did, she just can't hold on anymore.

No matter how much longer she would like to stay just like that, right at the edge of that precious precipice, the landlord sends her hurling into the abyss with his increased ministrations. She cries out and spasms as he does so, digging her nails into his thigh as he shows her ecstasy she couldn't ever have dreamed of.

Mr. Gold continues to suckle and stroke her skin long after the most intense wave of pleasure has passed, keeping her in a delightful state of bliss. Again, she could happily remain exactly like that for a considerable time—but in the situation they're in, there's something else she'd much rather do now.

"Let me make you feel good as well?" she asks, opening her eyes to find him looking at her with enraptured awe.

"I'm already feeling better than I ever knew I could, sweetheart," he says, bringing his clean hand up to trail his fingers down her cheek, his touch so very careful and his eyes ever so disbelieving.

"Let me pleasure you as well?" she tries instead, wondering how it can't even occur to him that she may want to do so—let alone how very much.

"You wouldn't mind doing that for me?"

"I want to do that for you."

"I…"

Rather than to accept her offer happily, he lowers his head and withdraws his hands from her after all.

"What you just did for me… I'd never experienced that before. I want to make you feel good as well."

"You will," he says softly, still not looking at her. "Very much so."

"But you don't want me to?"

"I do… I do. But…"

"But what?"

"Miss French, I…"

"Given the circumstances, I really think you can call me by my first name."

"I… I'd like that, Miss… Belle."

"Don't you want me to touch you as well?" she asks softly, deciding that his first name is a hurdle for another time.

"I do."

"What's holding you back?"

"Miss French… Belle… I am… smitten with you."

"I feel the same about you," she breathes, wondering why he is making this sound like a problem. "So why don't you want to enjoy the way I can hopefully make you feel?"

"I'm afraid I'll enjoy it far too much," he replies, lowering his head yet further.

"I don't think such a thing could be possible," she points out, her heart aching as she reaches for him, carefully swiping his hair away so she can at least see his face again.

"I want you so much," he whispers, his voice almost inaudible, as if he were confessing a crime rather than his desire for a woman who very much shares it. "I want you too much."

"I don't think that could be possible, considering the fact that I feel exactly the same way about you," she repeats.

"I want to make it last, and to savor it, but I already know I'm too… I can't even begin to tell you how I have longed for something like this. I didn't think there was any way it might ever actually happen, but now it does, and… I don't want this to be over in five seconds. It's… selfish, and…"

The usually so very eloquent landlord is practically babbling, making her only more eager for him.

"It's not selfish at all, especially after what you just did for me. If anything, I will be spared a sore wrist. And if it's over quickly… well, all the more reason to do it again soon, don't you think?"

"Oh, Belle…"

"Let's get you comfortable," she murmurs, sensing he is reassured, "and try to relax."

"You're very ambitious, sweetheart," he responds, moaning at her words alone, making her only more determined to continue.

"Lie down on your back? That way, I'll be able to reach most of you all at once."

Mr. Gold doesn't reply verbally this time, but the further increased tension in his body tells her all she needs to know about his level of self-consciousness. Which makes it more of a relief yet, if only for his sake, that she sees nothing whatsoever about his appearance or reactions to her that might actually justify such nervousness.

"Beautiful," she whispers as she coaxes him onto his back, the entire front of his body exposed—unsurprised when he doesn't accept that compliment at face value.

That is hardly a shock at this point, so Belle wastes no time before moving along with something she has higher hopes for. Ignoring the urge to take in the sight of him, glistening and already aroused to the point of bursting, she leans over him and brings her face level to his instead.

"Beautiful," she repeats, the word accompanied by a brush of her lips against his forehead.

She says the word over and over again, lightly kissing another part of his face each and every time, until she is pressing her lips against his—and he tentatively returns the touch.

When he makes no move to deepen their kiss, she briefly withdraws to take a better look at him. Finding him with his eyes closed, a smile on his face and his posture considerably more relaxed than before, she continues her quest.

She softly kisses his neck and throat, trailing her fingertips over his chest, featherlight. She may have originally planned to have him gasping and shuddering from the strokes of her hand on one particular part of his body, but now that she's basically touching him everywhere but there, and to very much the same result, she couldn't be more pleased.

"We can draw this out for as long as we like," she says, and to her delight, he nods in agreement.

Later, probably much later, once she has gotten slightly over the fact that she and Mr. Gold have been together like this—over feeling better than she ever had in her life—there will be time and focus for a somewhat more rational analysis of all this. For now, she can only feel, and she very much hopes that the same goes for him—that he can leave behind the self-loathing and bitterness which seem to take such a place within him, now that she is getting to know him like this.

As she explores his chest with her mouth and hands, the landlord is relaxed at last, accepting her caresses and kisses with soft groans and gasps. He only buries his hand in her hair when she nudges him to do so, using his fingers to stroke her lightly rather than to guide her in any particular direction.

Indeed, she considers him a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, and a yet more desirable lover to boot, when he makes no move whatsoever to get her closer to the part of his body which clearly aches for her the most.

"What would you like me to do to you?" she asks, needing to hear what he wants before voicing her several ideas.

"Could you… if you don't mind… could you touch me with your hand?"

"I'd love to do that," she says, sensing that there will be plenty of opportunities to try other things later. "Tell me if there's anything else you'd like from me?"

He nods in response—yet at the same time, he looks like he'd consider himself to be the luckiest person on earth if she were to continue being with him like this, let alone actually pleasure him. But the latter is exactly what she is going to do, wanting to make him as happy as possible while indulging her own curiosity and desire as much as she can.

Knowing by now how wonderfully sensitive he is, the first brush of her index finger against his twitching length is so soft she wonders whether he felt it at all. Her question is answered as soon as she inwardly asked it, his hips bucking off the chair.

"Sweetheart…" he groans in utter reverence, the combination of his voice and his almost desperate reaction to her light touch leaving her throbbing once more.

Belle continues touching him so carefully, sensing he will tell her if he should wish her to do anything else. Although her ministrations don't become more firm, each and every one of his reactions is yet more volatile than the one before.

By the time she's stroking his length very, very slowly and lightly, he is whimpering her name over and over again, blindly thrusting his hips upwards in a wholly instinctive fashion. It's a heady sight indeed to see the usually utterly composed landlord like this.

Rather than wishing this could go on forever, she's eager to see him come undone. She wants to see him at the pinnacle of his pleasure, see him lose control even further—she feels quite desperate for it. By now, she dares to hope that this will hardly be the last time she gets to see him like this, that the sooner it ends now, the sooner they can start all over again.

Besides, she isn't certain just how much more of this Mr. Gold can take without actually hurting himself by accident, writhing and straining like he is—although this is by far the most enticing sight she's ever seen in her life.

Before she can wonder or ask him how she could send him over the edge, he reaches his peak right when she stills, spurting hotly over her hand and his own stomach. Yet more moisture gathers between her own legs as well, her throat dry as paper in contrast as he thrusts into her palm, letting out a guttural groan.

Beyond enchanted by the sight of him, she continues to stimulate him, marveling at the way he keeps shaking and groaning long after he has found his release. Intrigued, she trails the fingers of her free hand through the warm mess on his belly, even those touches leaving him gasping and quivering before he goes still at long last.

"What happens next?" he asks hoarsely yet in a rather small voice, looking at her with guarded eyes.

"The way I see it, that entirely depends on what the both of us want. Personally, I'd love to rest here for a while… after getting sunscreen all over you, just to make sure you won't get burned after all. After that… well, I imagine we'll be quite sweaty, and yet messier than we are now. I suppose a shower or a bath would be in order then. Perhaps you have such facilities here, which would be big enough for both of us?"

"I do," he replies, smiling tentatively when it dawns on him that she's suggesting they spend more time together, indulging in pleasurable physical activities.

"We could wash ourselves together, although I imagine that might make us want to find a bed and get… dirty all over again. I would definitely like that, though. I suppose we could rest again afterwards, and if you were to invite me for dinner and to spend the night… well, I'd very happily accept, because I'd be delighted to spend some more time with you."

"I can't imagine anything more perfect," he murmurs, leaning into her.

"Neither can I," she breathes, reaching for the previously discarded bottle of sunscreen without taking her eyes off him for even a second.


End file.
